Children described.

I will start out with my second born daughter because she always gets the second place description. Just now she raced out of the house, eager to catch up with her older sister and cousin. Not to be left out of the fun as they burst outside in this surprisingly fresh Spring/end of Winter air.

“Don’t get mud on your shoes, stay out from under the apple tree!!” I yell…”stay out of the neighbor’s property line,” our neighbors are curmudgeons with under tones of white supremacy looming around their home in the form of Auto store decal stickers.

Sheesh. Back to the description of my daughter, Bella. She is a wiry one. Full of life and spirit. Sometimes I see her following the crowd but she wrangles life with a fierce independence when no one is watching. Never wants to be left out of the party. Her big eyes well with tears when another child in our family receives praise. Sometimes her disdain is privately held and her lip will just take the form of a flat line. Unheard of on her beautiful little mouth but known to those closest to her. It is particularly hard for me to get upset at her or roll my own eyes at her when she is this way. I’ve noticed this with others too. There is just something about her…Most people feel for her, she will have a great path in this world…will most likely break hearts and become heartbroken more than once.

She has a desire to constantly be in motion, constantly talking about something, anything. Car rides are never dull. Only when I turn on public radio does she fall into some sort of unstructured sleep. Leaving us all with some respite. She is the child that asks questions. I am always answering her for fear of stifling her creativity.

She is the child that if she has stomach flu, will eat everything in the refrigerator and then throw it up on the carpet next to her bed. Will daringly run through the mud, wear her shoes accidentally through the house, use every last sheet of toilet paper to clean up a spilt grape juice instead of letting me know about the mess. Never mind when I walk in the kitchen and the floor is suspiciously sticky I am quick to deduce where the sticky originated.

She is also the kid who stands up to bullies, cries out at any injustice done to anyone/thing she loves, gives out the best smiles and snuggles. Hardly complains. She is the vinyasa of yoga. Believer in ghosts. Teller of tales. Doesn’t care much for reading but is fantastic at math and science. Carries her little sister like a sack of potatoes but with every single ounce of love you could muster up. Plays alongside her for what seems like hours, never minding if the routine seems boring. She will find a way to be stimulated. She makes the most out of what she has, the true definition of life and lemons.

Just now she comes in…”Did dada leave to the gym?”

Yes.

“Ok, just making sure the car is not stolen.”

Ok then.

Back outside with her sister and cousin. Apparently there is a suspicious substance in the yard. They are trying to figure it out…I tell them not to touch it. It sounds suspiciously like deer poop. Live and learn, I guess.

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